Into the Fire

In between it all . . .

There are those who embrace change and hunger for a new adventure. Adventure appeals to me as long as hot water, electricity, and a flush toilet are involved. Change for the sake of change has never been my forte. However, change has been in the wind around here for some time, but it’s currently in the not available mode, confounding us with its teasing ways.

No, I know God isn’t teasing us. We’re in preparation for whatever’s next. Whenever that is. Yes, I know about the waiting game. And patience. And all that. Never been any good at them. In fact, it’s a genetic deficiency in my family to enjoy waiting. For anything. At all.

Everything right now feels non-permanent. We’ve lived in our home for almost 25 years. Loved it here. Until development encircled our little enclave and turned rural to urban. Not good for us and our horses. Our city has confounded every contract we’ve had with developers and meetings which went on for six long months came to a disappointing halt when said city voted to override every plea we and our neighbors made to them. The Mayor is promising it will work out. The developer has taken a hike until he’s convinced the Mayor’s promises are for real, and we are victims for the THIRD time of the city’s politics. Three voided contracts.

There are also some bizarre and sorrowful things going on in some of our family’s dynamic. Totally unpredictable and so out of character. Whacked for sure. And sad.

We enjoy our current church but have not plugged in like we usually do. Because it seems temporary. It’s that indefinable undercurrent one gets used to from the Spirit of God. The waiting is difficult because only ideas dangle in the distance.

In this process sometimes I look at writers and writing and shudder. Strange thing to do. It’s just that it all seems so insignificant at times. I concede it’s not, but the vanity which seeps into the profession appears more like slimy mud than confident marketing. How many times do we have to shout out about our latest projects? What about when people break and emotions blast apart like shattered shards of crystal slammed against boulders? How many novels do you read when your heart crushes against the weight of trauma? Perhaps you resort to non-fiction and bury your confusion in self-help tomes? Searching desperately for something to ease the gnawing ache in your gut or appease the blame?

Life is a beautiful thing, but it’s also cruel at times. Wicked. Ugly. Mean. The only constant is God doesn’t change. He doesn’t tell us one thing and do another. His vows get done and remain permanent while people crumble promises like the topping on a Dutch Apple Pie.

Writing can be a release. Words come out profound. Meaningful books are made. So many of us take the credit for all the hard work, perseverance, efforts. We just don’t get that it’s God. All the way. His abilities manifested in us. Allowed in us. Why must we seize the credit, snatch it away from Him? We’re an instrument He chooses to design and incorporate into His magnificent story.

Sometimes we just get carried away with ourselves.

So . . . this is the way my mind wanders this time.

Father, you are the answer. The total, all consuming answer. To all things. Work in me what is pleasing to you. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

When it all goes south . . .

I wonder what that means. I mean really. South like to Antarctica? South like to Arkansas? Or south like all the way to hell?

Walk the Christian walk long enough, and things go south. Tragedy, crisis, fear, mistakes, all kinds of unholy hellish ways pop up like ducks in a shooting gallery. Seem to happen when you least expect them, too.

When the world throws the curves, we get it. Okay. We expect chaos from those who don’t know Jesus. The viewpoint is skewed, tainted by whatever sinful mode an individual looks through in their darkened virtual reality.

But when a solid Christian goes way over the edge, when the about-face kicks us directly in the teeth, we tend to lose our footing. Reeling in the aftermath. Choking down the odd sensations before the gut absorbs the tautness of the blow and regurgitates our most recent meal. What the . . .? Hell.

The behavior comes directly from hell. And we stand with our mouths limp, our voices stunted, our wind knocked out of us, leaving us gasping as we try to gain oxygen.

People can lose their faith when these things happen. Some rage at God for allowing them. Some just rage. Some refuse to acknowledge that God is good in the middle of horror. And others wonder if He is who He says He is—but not out loud.

Deception slithers like a silent snake waiting for the minimal opening to suck us into his venomous fangs. Will we believe his cunning ways and succumb to his clever schemes? It’s possible. None of us are immune from the serpent’s evil. After all, our bloodlust runs in our veins. Known as sin. The flesh covets it, desires it. Will we follow that snake?

What are you doing to protect yourself? Praying structured prayers? Praying period? Doing faithful devotions? Attending church regularly? Leading a Bible study? None are guarantees to be effective. Sin finds its way wandering through our neural pathways, lighting up synapses, delivering sensations which appeal to our bodies. Oh, the mind is a powerful thing. Arguing with Truth, justifying evil, rationalizing wrong.

If you are diligently serving the Lord, if you love Him with your whole heart, watch out. Be careful. Listen to His voice. Be sure of the Truth that brought you out of the kingdom of darkness. Stay steady in His grip. Fight off the temptations. Apart from Jesus, you can do nothing.

Except return to the flesh . . . the evil and corrupted flesh. And go south.

Father, help us to stay in you. Lord, don’t let us stray. We are desperate for you. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

Sunday's Offerings

For the kingdom of God is not a matter of talk but of power.

I Corinthians 4:20 (NIV)

Please listen . . . and hear.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G44NCvNDLfc&feature=player_embedded

Our Lord God Almighty, please help us. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

A world gone mad . . .

Way back in 1964, if I’m not mistaken, there was a film titled “It’s A Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World”. The movie played in downtown Seattle at the brand new Cinerama Theatre which presented it on a huge screen with exceptional acoustics—everything new and outstanding in the realm of watching movies. Supposed to be a comedy, the film showcased a parade of great comedic stars/actors, and although there were multiple funny lines and a few slapstick segments, I found the movie would’ve been better served by this title: “It’s A Sad, Sad, Sad, Sad World”.

Today I find the world has indeed gone mad . . . and it is sad. And not very funny.

It seems very few people can look objectively at people or events anymore. Personally, for those in the family who are mourning the death of longtime Senator Ted Kennedy, I understand losing loved ones. There can be no denying that family members and friends experience such a heavy loss and will no doubt grieve for some time. From a distance I can sympathize with those who loved him.

But also from a distance it remains a mystery to me how he can be exalted for what he stood for in his profession and in his personal life. The documented stories of the Kennedy men, including Senator Ted Kennedy, display a complete disregard for morality and decency within a family. “Camelot”? A legendary myth in the Kennedy clan, a myth so many embraced because of Jacqueline’s soft-spoken and fashion-icon genteel ways and two adorable children in the White House.

Ted Kennedy was a lush, a hard-nosed ball-breaker (forgive me if that offends you) kind of a guy who fit right into the progressive, socialist government that is being forced down our throats. Even though he was wealthy, he decried the wealth of others, loved taxing the people to the max to support his supposed wonderful causes, none of which have worked, and the scandals which lurked in his shadow got blown out like a short match. After all: he was a Kennedy.

I don’t feel good about his acquisition of and subsequent death from a brain tumor, but it’s no more grievous nor important than that of much younger author Kristy Dykes who passed away last year from the same kind of malady. Contrary to Senator Kennedy, she lived a fruitful life exalting Jesus Christ and doing her level best to serve Him to her dying day.

Everyone dies. Most of us die outside the scrutiny of the media. But when the media decides to make an idol out of a man, the truth of that life is passed over for some fabricated and heroic homage. I imagine to many people close to him Ted Kennedy was loved for good qualities. They will remember those in their times of grief as well they should.

This mad, mad, sad, sad world chooses to worship powerful men regardless of their character. They act as though certain people somehow acquire a godlike status and are worthy of every possible positive accolade. No one can replace them in their position or office.

But in the end—if never before—we die in equality. Whether it’s a brutal death in a third world country or an exquisite death in a prestigious family, we go into the ground or are consumed with flames or we are left to rot without consideration for our passing. Such is this life in sin. Eternity waits for us all. Every corpse will have an eternity.

The sins of this life are either forgiven by request or will await eternal judgment. A prominent death of a “great” person or a serial killer reminds us that death comes to all.

Pompous people die equally to humble servants. The ways and means of death make no difference. The condition of the soul at the time of passing determines our eternal existence. We can be so cavalier about eternity. Such statements and assertions of opinions of people make no difference in the end.

Only Jesus makes a difference in the end. The same choice throughout life demands a decision. Are you for Him or against Him? Covered by his sinless Blood or contaminated in the robe of sinful flesh? We choose. And no one can choose for us.

Father, we learn the pain of grief the longer we’re allowed to remain on planet earth. You are the Author of Life. Our days are numbered. And you are no respecter of persons. Thank you, God. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

The Wicked One.

One of the problems with today’s Christian is that he/she has forgotten the enemy of their souls. We all know this place called earth and the life that pulses through us is inhibited by evil. First of all, the very blood running through our veins is stained by sin. Corruptible flesh which decays in the grave because of sin.

The objective of Christianity is to love souls because we are all equal in this sin nature. We cannot save ourselves. The Savior of the world loves us all in spite of our tainted ways, our conflicted desires to pursue what pleases this selfish contaminated body and mind.

The avid fan of this sinful state works tirelessly to see that we are blinded, tempted, induced, imbibed, and coerced into making ugly decisions to indulge this flesh. To continue to say yes to what we know is wrong, hurtful, dangerous, and evil. Demonic activity tantalizes us by mixing truth with lies. The evil one sticks with this remarkable tactic since it repeatedly works in his favor.

So I wonder how you combat the enemy of your souls . . . Do you address the dark spirits as Jesus did and as He said we should? Do you ignore every temptation traveling at light speed into your atmosphere? Do you recite structured prayers and hope for the best? Do you actively rebuke the enemy of your souls when you either sense or observe his behaviors and influences taking place before or within you?

The wicked one knows how to play the game better than we do. And of course he presents our weakest areas to us when we are at our most vulnerable. A crafty enemy. Not to be ignored or taken lightly.

And yet we all do.

Why is that? Is it because the warfare is considered whacko? Is it because it isn’t addressed from the pulpit? Is it because we have decided either consciously or not that it’s unnecessary?

The spirit realm is active always. Supernatural events happen always. The spiritual realm doesn’t take a timeout. The evil ones are like hit men. You don’t necessarily see them until the wound is inflicted. Whether or not it’s fatal depends on your dependence upon the Great One who is greater than the entire army of demons and their leader.

Who do you depend upon?

Father, you are the power and authority. Every knee will bow, every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord to the Glory of God. Hallelujah. Amen.

Underneath it all . . . Try Fear

For those who have truly loved and lost, either by the end of a romance or the dissolution of a marriage or in catastrophic circumstances: the death of a loved one, there can remain a fear. The hurt is so intense we never want to experience it again. It’s crushing and stifling. Sets our emotional state back to zero and sometimes staggers our spiritual state of faith. Some blame the Almighty, accusing Him of not caring, of being cruel, of hating us enough to bring this sorrow which amplifies rather than ebbs for several long . . . well, times.

Enter Ty Buchanan, ex-high powered attorney who now practices out of his “residence” and at a coffee shop. I sincerely urge you to read this series from the beginning even though James Scott Bell has somehow managed to make each book a story all its own. It’s just that to effectively know and appreciate Ty, one must savor each stage of his character development, and the best way to do this is to start with Try Dying and to follow up with Try Darkness before stepping into Try Fear. Nevertheless, Try Fear gives us the ever witty, clever, caustic, courageous, and, yes, in his own way fearful Tyler Buchanan: at his best when he serves someone he believes in or someone who will be railroaded by the system of “justice” without his help.

However, it’s best not to cross Mr. Buchanan because he does not take kindly to being used. Especially when those who use his genius in court affect the life of someone decent, respectable, and loving.

Sister Mary Veritas who serves at St. Monica’s Benedictine Community in the Santa Susana Mountains where Ty stays in a small trailer since exiting his high-falutin’ days in a respected law firm, is receiving pornographic emails from a cyber stalker. Ty fights to ignore his attraction to the Sister who has yet to decide whether or not to become a full-fledged nun and who for whatever reason—most likely her association with Ty—is on the head nun’s “bad list”. Sister Mary wears a habit when she isn’t in sweats jabbing elbows at Ty in a game of one-on-one basketball on the small court outside Ty’s trailer. Her normal dress proves quite useful when Ty takes her along to investigate the particulars of whatever case he’s working. He’s discovered she has great skills in asking questions, getting answers, and finding unique facts pertaining to his investigation.

Ty uses an entrepreneurial inventor to assist him with magic gadgets in extreme situations, and he enlists the help of the man known as B2 to find the person sending vulgar threatening emails to Sister Mary.

When Ty is able to get a client off on a technicality for driving drunk, he clashes with the talented and beautiful assistant prosecuting attorney who decides she fancies him. Ty toys with the possibility of her charm and elegance, considering how life-changing a law partnership with her might be.

When that client is found dead in his apartment, his brother is accused of murdering him. The mother of the two men reminds Ty of his own mother, and he wants to do right by her.

Try Fear captures LA and Hollywood in all their glory, buffoonery, flash, and crash aspects. Pop culture mixed with savvy lawyering and crazy characters plus a skilled and beautiful attorney, a caring and lovely Sister, Father Bob who always tries to keep the peace in Ty’s reluctant soul by offering morsels of wisdom, and underneath it all the fear of investing oneself into something real and true . . .

You do not want to miss this series. You just do not. This is smack talk, haunting and insightful writing at its best. You will love these novels. You will laugh out loud. You will weep in brief places. I have loved each book. The ending to Try Fear is as noble and heroic as the best Hollywood has to offer. James Scott Bell was born to write this series. If you can, buy all three. If Try Fear sells well, there will be another one. If not . . . a terrible loss to readers.

Father, thank you for the stunning abilities of James Scott Bell. You use his talents in multiple ways. Please watch over Jim, bless his writing with your continued insights to the fearful souls of the lost. May he always glorify you in all he does. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

Once again in this case . . .

Confirming why I no longer read secular fiction, I’m reading a general market police mystery because I won an autographed copy of the novel and so thought I’d read it as a “courtesy”. You know . . . I’m not shocked or even offended at bad language, but I’m just sick of “listening” to it.

Fairly frequently on various posts around the web (currently at Novel Matters), the language question/subject goes round and round. Look, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. As a Christian who writes, how you choose to write your story is between you and the Lord. You can argue pro or con for profanity, vulgarity, whatever. You can claim reality insists upon it—or not. Honestly, I really don’t care what you decide. As for me, I don’t want to read the f-bomb or s-word or the vulgar sexual references. I want to know if a character swears or cusses, but I don’t want to read the specifics. I don’t mind some sexual innuendo, but when it gets graphic or uncouth, not for me. I’ve lived it, folks, and I no longer want to participate. It’s ugly.

The story is entertaining and definitely a mystery. I still don’t know who’s really killed all the people, and I’m not too far from the end. The detectives are witty, funny, and intent on getting the truth. The writer has an exceptional platform, having written a previous novel besides being a screenwriter. However, this book is certainly no better and definitely not as good as many CBA novels I’ve read with the same types of characters and stories sans the graphic profanity and vulgarity.

So once again in this case: I don’t read secular fiction because . . . where is the redemptive touch? This isn’t to say there aren’t superb novels out there in the general market. Or that there aren’t redemptive messages in novels in the general market. This is to say I’ve found enough quality in CBA to keep me occupied for quite some time.

Just my thoughts . . .

Lord God Almighty, all I want to do is honor you. I fail and keep going. Any success is your doing. All praise to you. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

And into . . . The Knight

Steven James is indeed a master storyteller. By trade. By profession. By calling. And this entertaining series featuring Special Agent Patrick Bowers gives this storyteller free rein to get thoroughly involved in his stories. You might recall my review of The Pawn disclosed a complicated and perhaps too ambitious plot. The Rook focused more succinctly on a primary antagonist, and a particularly creepy one at that. Now with The Knight we have a new precise, sociopathic, and convoluted killer, who calls himself “Giovanni”, orchestrating a series of crimes which end up reflecting or duplicating the events and murders from the pages of a 15th century book which was banned by the church, coinciding with the trial of a previously apprehended serial killer who asks Patrick Bowers to lie on the stand about an altercation they had at his arrest and who claims he has found Jesus.

Mixed up with these compelling and demanding circumstances are the attraction our protagonist feels for the female detective he’s working with again, his potential break-up with Lien-hua (an FBI profiler whose life he saved), his step-daughter Tessa’s reaction to her deceased mother’s diary which she begged to read and her subsequent actions, the intricate accomplishments of a killer who is always ahead of their efforts, and the eventual discovery that Patrick’s death is the final objective of this merciless murderer.

When Patrick’s boss, a female with whom he constantly feuds because of past conflicts, sends a profiler for whom he has little respect to head up this Denver investigation, Patrick pays scant attention to the cocky antics and questionable generalities he offers about the killer.

The intense journey to find the geospatial intersection between killer and victim takes almost the entire book, but when Patrick finally connects the dots, the full-speed ahead throttles up, and what has already been advancing in a steady and creepy way, explodes into rapidly repeating discovery.

Steven James created a likable, genius-type boy/man next door character in Special Agent Patrick Bowers, the thirty-plus widower trying to raise his teenaged step-daughter who at times seems older than himself. He’s yet to recover from his wife’s death, slow to re-enter the romance mode and uncomfortable in the process. Brilliant and focused during his investigations, it’s easier for him to be involved in the mayhem than in the everyday normality of life. Disinterested in God, although his mother is a Christian woman, he fights silent rage at the cruel injustices of evil people and life in general while maintaining a true sense of ethics when the rage doesn’t overpower him.

Fascinating stories with an entertaining writing style, Steven James delivers each new addition to the Patrick Bowers’ thrillers with fresh intensity, multiple conflicts, moral decisions, horrendous antagonists, and intricate details which send the reader down many dead-ends right along with Patrick until it all clicks into place for him.

The Knight takes us almost to a satisfying conclusion and then leaves us hanging on that proverbial cliff. Summer of 2010 seems much too far away and way too long to wait for The Bishop, the next Patrick Bowers thriller.

Available August 2009 at your favorite bookseller from Revell, a division of Baker Publishing Group.

Father, I would ask your continued blessing upon Steven James. You have given him unique storytelling abilities and I pray he would always use them for your glory. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

Sunday's Offerings

This is the gospel that you heard and that has been proclaimed to every creature under heaven, and of which, I, Paul, have become a servant.

Colossians 1:23b (NIV)

And you chose this novel to read . . . why?

I’m one of the few who will press on through a novel I don’t like until the end. I’ve been considering whether or not this is because I’ve either signed up to review it so I feel obligated to read every word or because I’m obsessive and can’t justify quitting on a book. I haven’t decided why I’ve finished some novels.

I know it used to be because I wanted to give the author every possible chance to redeem the story. Now having seen that fail 100% of the time, I’ve learned that if I don’t like the book after I’m into it a ways, chances are (like 100% of the time) my conclusion at the conclusion will be negative. Thus far no author whose story I haven’t cared for after wading into the novel has been able to redeem him/herself. So. Not a good plan in reality to continue—other than to establish that either I will never buy/acquire another of this particular author’s tomes or I will just pass on this individual book because there have been others I’ve enjoyed.

Which brings me to the question in the title: Why do I choose a specific novel to read? Every reader started somewhere. Was it because of a recommendation from a fellow reader or friend? One who raved about a book and made it irresistible? Was it a unique cover design and the flipping over of that novel to read stimulating back cover copy? Originally, there had to be a first reason to dig in to fiction. I’ve been reading fiction as long as I can remember. And the only non-fiction I read usually resulted from a school assignment. Even now it takes a specific and immensely valid reason for me to read non-fiction. And I have no qualms about leaving non-fiction unread after several or even a few chapters.

It’s difficult to remember the initial draw to a novel. Now it’s rather simple really. Refined down to a practical science. Each month I receive a list of books offered for promotion from the Christian Fiction Blog Alliance. Pick out however many you want and review them on your blog—simple requirements. A great way to get books. A blessing in fact. I also get occasional requests from CBA publishers for particular books they are promoting, and their requirements are the same. Very cool. A simple yes or no, and the book belongs to you, or not.

Choosing the novels I want to read consists of reading back cover copy. Occasionally from publishers I get an attachment with more specific information about the release of the novel. Since I read very specific genres, it’s relatively simple to eliminate some right off the top. Then with what’s left I choose based on description of the conflict. If it sounds fairly obvious and I feel lukewarm about it, no thanks. If I’ve heard some favorable discussion about the writing in the novel, chances are I’m in—I want to evaluate it for myself if it’s getting some rave comments.

If I’m in the Christian bookstore, it’s a little different. Since I’m fairly well informed as to when my favorite authors release their latest novels, if I haven’t acquired them from the tours, I look for them on the shelves. And I’m extremely loyal. If I like an author’s work, I will buy it. And I will promote it. Selecting new adventures isn’t so easy anymore. I can say I rarely read any of the writing—in other words, I don’t open the novel—at the store to check out the author’s style. I read some, and usually not all, of the back cover copy to judge whether or not the plot interests me. Covers impact me—I love and am drawn to good covers—but they aren’t the only deciding factor.

Some people read first chapters standing there in the aisle of the bookstore and make a decision based on that. Not me. The simple blurb must decide for me. The less the better. I don’t want anything ruined by too much copy. So the first sentence, first chapter lingo that publishers push to hook and keep the reader interested, involved, or enticed does not apply to me. And, quite frankly, as a writer, I recognize it when it’s overdone. Some stories are not designed to open with a shotgun blast. Effective when appropriate but gimmicky when the story itself doesn’t support that kind of introduction.

How ‘bout you? Ultimately what is it that makes you pick up a novel to read?

Father, you know how much I appreciate your creativity exercised in people. Thank you that you are no respecter of persons. Thank you that we can each mean so much to you in unique ways. Thank you that we don’t have to earn your favor. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

Green Slime.

I am not a fan of “green”. Unless of course it’s a pleasant forest green used in a fall clothing line. Don’t talk to me about “going green”, “turning green”, or “being green”. I think people have lost their minds.

Mercury in fish is supposed to kill you, but it’s perfectly fine in twisted (in more ways than one) light bulbs. Nobody in their right mind enjoys pollution. Yes, some factories, industries, and/or businesses contributed to horrible pollution because they refused to take precautions to eliminate or greatly reduce the pollutant they caused or produced in making products. Heavy fines. New restrictions and some lawsuits prevailed. Rightfully so for those knuckleheads.

But I must tell you that a great lot of this green garbage is not truth. Not even close.

Let me tell you a little tale. A true story, as a matter of fact. Said characters shall remain anonymous since the snitch czars probably monitor this anti-green dialogue.

Once upon a time there was a young man who grew up in the era of American muscle cars. You know what I mean: GTOs, Corvettes, Camaros, Super Sports, Saleen or Mach 1 Mustangs. You get my drift. Time passes. Years of atrociously ugly cars. Then after a period of time, fast vehicles start making a slight comeback. And lo and behold! Entering the mix is a hot rod pickup truck made by Ford and called a Lightning! A truck!

Young man became a responsible adult who drove a reliable and gutsy Ford 4 X 4 pickup truck which drove through all weather, hauled trailers full of horses without complaint, and was just plain awesome and useful. Ford 4 X 4 ages and now older man decides a little muscle would be too cool. Enter unique hot rod pickup truck made by Ford and called a Lightning.

Hidden under this Lightning’s hood myriad instruments and components make said truck go very, very fast. As in push the passenger back in the seat with head firmly planted against head rest fast. Fun thing about said truck: there are all kinds of after-market parts available to improve this already untamed speed! (You have no idea.)

Okay, so here’s the secret part of the story which could bring the feds down on this truck like Lightning fast. So pretend this information appears in a hushed whisper. Those particular parts known as catalytic converters which are designed to restrict CO2 emissions—there are four of them on Lightnings. They are unnecessary!! In fact, if you add expensive after market pieces to your engine and exhaust systems, you don’t need them! At all.

The whole goal of making an engine run “cleaner” and to burn fuel more efficiently depends on more AIR, not on these expensive filters and extra pieces tagged on to the exhaust systems. Give the engine more opportunity to “breathe”, and those additional “cats” can be eliminated.

Proof you say? This very, very fast Lightning passed the State Emissions Exam—and this is a direct quote from a somewhat surprised tester—“with flying colors”. Clean. Not “green”.

Just a little story for some of the old muscle car fans.

And for those of us who want to . . . well, you know . . . at the mention of “green”. Slime.

Father, much of this junk science comes from those who deny you, who cannot fathom that you keep this earth in play, that you decide when it ends, not the ignorant arrogance of mankind. Lord, forgive us for our folly. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

For your blogging pleasure . . .

These are worthwhile reads:

http://chipmacgregor.typepad.com/main/

http://forensicsandfaith.blogspot.com/2009/08/why-faith-in-fiction.html

http://novelmatters.blogspot.com/

Father, bless these who contribute so much to your work in different ways. Be close to them and lift them up to fellowship with you. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

Technical Schmechnical!

Technically I’m not a writer. But what I mean by that is if I had to consider the technical breakdowns of a story, I’d fall flat on my keyboard head first. Emotion propels me into story. Passion drives that emotional train, and if I can’t write passionately about something, I might as well not even attempt it. Let me make it clear right now: if you are a technical writer, that is one who sets up, plots, plans, and pursues the story through organizational techniques, I applaud you. Seriously. It’s just that I can’t do it that way.

I am a very sequential person. To force me to get to B or C without first visiting A will propel me into confusion. Except when I’m random. Which is rarely. But still. Sometimes I am.

So when I hear that this or that technique works well to increase tension within a story, or to use certain methodology to create angst, fear, humor, or whoknowswhat, I wonder how I ever learned those things. They can be present in my writing but not intentionally—at least not because of my technical efforts to put them in action.

It’s old news that I’m a rule breaker with the quantifier of I believe one must possess a solid core knowledge of those rules in order to effectively break them. To my friends it’s also well known that I love variety in story elements and styles and voices. Travis Thrasher told a tale in second person POV. How often have you read a story that dared to do that? It worked. Great idea. In his last novel he was all over the map with POVs, and he did it wonderfully. Good efforts. And I say: Go for it!

We all know that basic storytelling follows a formula. After awhile, those formulas can seem repetitive so it’s noteworthy when an author breaks stride to produce something a little daring or different from the norm. Of course in order to be successful they must do it in an appealing or provocative way. And who’s to say what that might be?

I admire technically perfect writers. Those who craft and form a story sometimes before it’s even written amaze me. I can jot a note here and there if something necessary but down the road to the story comes along, but structuring and organizing a story doesn’t happen in my world. It unfolds as the words hit the page.

No wonder I’m technically challenged.

Father, all I can say is thank you for your variety, your sense of humor. I’m sure I’ve given you multiple eye-rolling moments. And hopefully lots of laughter. How else could you put up with me? I love you, Lord. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

Definitely not a . . . Miss Match

The second and, unfortunately for now, final book in the Allie Fortune Mystery Series by Sara Mills leaves us at just the place we wanted to be. Finally. And that’s the end.

Miss Match takes Allie Fortune, Private Investigator, and Special Agent Jack O’Connor on a treacherous journey to postwar Berlin in an unlikely liaison to rescue Maggie O’Shayne, Jack’s one true love, after he receives two vague letters pleading for help from the woman who left him behind after his marriage proposal and headed into the military to practice her nursing career.

Able to procure a false passport for Jack as her husband, Allie and Jack head to the remnants of a bombed out Berlin with papers from an adoption ministry to return with eight orphans. The plan comes together fast and loose and extremely dangerous for Jack since if his true identity is discovered, he could be held for treason. Allie initially tries to discourage his determined decision to rescue Maggie, suggesting she might not be the woman he thinks she is, but there will be no denying his departure so Allie puts together the scheme.

An unusual twist involving Allie’s difficult relationship with her mother provides a different peak into her mother’s heart so many years ago in Berlin. Once there we can almost see the broken and erupted concrete streets, the buildings sheered in half—many ready to collapse—the hunger pangs of so many people who stand in line only to find that the available food disappears before they get any, the cold that bites to the bone without the refuge of fireplaces or furnaces.

There’s a surprise waiting with Maggie and a frightening secret which has kept her in hiding. When she must finally reveal the knowledge which has left her a hunted woman, a horrible event causes Jack to form a daring plan which could be fatal to all of them if it doesn’t work. At the conclusion of the plan, Allie separates from them in order to pursue what has held her captive and inert for eight long years.

An inventive story which is told primarily in first person via Allie’s POV, it does shift to give the reader a glimpse of Maggie’s back story, present feelings for Jack, their circumstances, and the permeating fear which surrounds their hopes of escape. Told in a slightly different style than Miss Fortune, the disjointed story and different POVs somehow accentuate the brokenness of lives subjected to the physical and political aspects of war.

Sara’s writing and interesting stories told through her adventurous, gutsy, and devoted private investigator heroine who, like Jack, has never gotten past her first love, certainly deserve an audience. If you enjoy period mysteries with a unique and oddly endearing heroine, please buy these two novels by Sara Mills (Miss Fortune, Miss Match). They’re worthy of shelf space, and it’s disappointing to learn the third novel in the series has not been printed.

Father, I ask for your blessing and protection upon Sara Mills. I pray your comfort and peace in her life. I pray she would feel your strength when hers is spent and exhausted. I pray you would continue to give her stories to tell, hope for the future, and encourage her as only you can do in her darkest hours. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

Sunday's Offerings

Let the peace of God rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace. And be thankful.

Colossians 3:15 (NIV)

The wait between books . . .

Okay. Most all avid novel readers involve themselves in a series at some point. Most of us expect various types of series. In the O’Malley Series, a bestselling and popular series by author Dee Henderson, the individual members of a self-adopted family occupy each book with an obvious connection to one another running throughout the featured story of the family member. In Kristen Heitzmann’s series, Secrets, Unforgotten, and Echoes, the first book focuses on the heroine’s history but brings in the protagonist who is more heavily featured in the second book, and in the third book of the series a sister to the protagonist is added as the featured character while keeping the heroine and protagonist in focus.

In the Patrick Bowers Thrillers by Steven James, Special Agent Patrick Bowers faces new cases in each novel but there are carry-over character references besides his family and coworkers. In Robert Liparulo’s Dreamhouse Kings Series for young adults each new book begins where the previous book left off and is told in increments of minutes, hours, and days often taking a closer look at one particular family member’s response to the plight of each traumatic encounter.

While the cliffhanger endings are both popular and frequently used, I think it should be a requirement that publishers of those novels in a series which choose to end this way should be required to produce the next in line within a six month period. Longer than that—and they very often arrive a year later—a reader can lose the fervor and fact retention of the previous story. I don’t want to have to dig out the previous novel and thumb through it to refresh my memory of villains, circumstances, and states of minds which have vacated the premises of my mind some 100 novels later. I retain the basic scenarios, but the intricate facts which occupied the previous novel and perhaps culminated in that cliffhanger ending have long since retired to places unknown.

It’s not uncommon to have series novels end more precisely with an allusion to future stories, especially in the first book. It’s far more reasonable to make a reader wait for the next book with this approach. With these types the details are less cumbersome and pressing, and one can remember good characters—and evil ones—without much effort. However, when an author presents the reader with a complex plot, multiple twists, more than one villain, and lots of peripheral character intersections, it’s asking too much for a reader to retain the intensity of that story and enter into the new story one year later well-prepared to carry on just as he/she left off.

There is a bit of a risk involved, too. If the reader decides in book three, which ends in a cliffhanger, that the wait isn’t going to be worth it for whatever reason, that reader might just abandon the series. One lukewarm offering in the series and with a long wait, the author can lose a piece of his audience. Something to consider anyway.

Personally, I’m not fond of cliffhangers because of the wait for resolution. I don’t mind some loose ends, some villains left uncaught, some relationships still tenuous, but when you pile up the unresolved circumstances and then the book ends, it angers me. Especially when I have to wait a year to find out how this story will ultimately turn out. Unfair in my book. I wouldn’t mind so much if the next one came out six months later, but a full year? It tempts me to quit on it. Tempts. I would rather read a saga or two than be left dangling for a year from a cliffhanger.

Obviously it isn’t a concern for the publishers who produce them, huh?

Lord, thank you for enticing stories that minister truth along the way. Thank you for authors who desire to include more than entertainment and achieve their goal. Thank you for the multi-talented writers who honor you with their gifts and talents. I pray I would also keep you in the forefront of everything I do. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

Opinions. So many opinions . . .

At least twice a year the rounds of blogs tackle things like “What is Christian Fiction?” or “If you write evangelical fiction, you’re leaving out a slew of readers who will never touch a book with ‘Jesus’ in it.” Stuff like that. Once in a great while commentary gets a little cranky or competitive with strong opinions given in insulting language to one side or the other, but, honestly, those who are opposed to evangelical fiction tend toward using degrading terms while those who are opposed to less gospel-explicit writing tend toward scripture quoting and offer hints of judgment.

Most of you know I am one of the staunch defenders of Christian fiction because in recent years many of those authors who write “it” have proven their abilities to write at superior levels. Now here’s where the problem arises for some. They “need” a definition of Christian fiction for whatever reason. Maybe they’re highly organizational or they just desire to be street-savvy when it comes to accuracy in publishing/writing labels and terms. Good Christian authors organically mesh the gospel into their stories, but this doesn’t mean that those readers who resent any references to God will read them, regardless of how naturally the gospel weaves through and contributes to the story.

Now, let’s visit the other end of the spectrum: those quality writers who profess and demonstrate their Christianity in life but not so much in their writing. Tim Downs is my prime example with his exceptionally written Bug Man series. My friend Robert Liparulo can be another example, but I think he touched on faith issues in Comes A Horseman and Germ without focusing on them in the stories. Steven James’ series (The Pawn, The Rook, The Knight) develops a peripheral reference/character to Christianity, but it’s not in the forefront, and his protagonist’s resistance to faith is apparent.

My point—or opinion—is simply that it doesn’t matter much to me. I know who I am as a writer, so that’s who I need to be. There’s no question I’m an evangelical writer who includes and contrasts the worldly/secular characters and situations to those of either established or potential Christian characters and their responses to situations in the stories given to me to tell. Having been on both sides of this battle to choose heaven or hell, I think I’ve got a pretty good idea how to portray either side. I write redemption stories. That’s what God has assigned to me.

I see no point in arguing about fiction. From a publishing standpoint it’s reasonable to assume the different houses and their editors might look for specific types of writing and in order to make it clear either to them or to agents what they want, they tend to slap new labels on old ideas. They’re always looking for “the next best thing”.

I understand that some Christian writers feel excluded from the CBA houses because of the material they write. Many speculative fiction, fantasy, and science fiction writers have been waging an uphill battle forming blogs and websites to feature their preferences and draw attention to their plights after being told “it” doesn’t sell in regards to their “stuff”. Other writers have both subject matter and language issues with CBA fiction, but even some language makes it into print with some houses. Publishing anything is an uphill climb for most of us, so the criteria to be published in either the ABA or the CBA at any given time negates much of our efforts.

Finally there are old, and thoroughly worn out, misconceptions about CBA fiction. Those claims about no kissing, drinking, etcetera, still hold true for a minute number of imprints in certain houses, but they are no way in the majority. The more avant-garde houses or imprints such as Hachette Book Group’s FaithWords and Center Street divisions or occasionally Thomas Nelson have taken the lead in risks.

Anyway, just my opinion.

Father, thank you for stories to tell. Thank you for inspiration. Thank you for it all. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

Not just . . . The Night Watchman

Mark Mynheir’s new novel The Night Watchman introduces us to the damaged ex-cop Ray Quinn. The story isn’t new, but with Mark’s colorful and interesting characters, it’s a story we want to read again.

Ray Quinn was a great detective before he and his female partner were ambushed on the front lawn in a routine visit to a drug dealer’s home. He took three bullets and survived, barely, but she was killed with one shot. He is now a night watchman on the midnight shift at the Coral Bay Condominiums in Orlando along with an unusual young man named Crevis Creighton who wants to be a cop more than anything else in all of life.

Now Ray walks with a cane to support his new hip and plastic pelvis, endures torturous physical therapy from a woman he refers to as Helga, mourns the loss of his future fiancée who happened to be his partner, and works on Sudoku puzzles in the wee hours of the morning while dispatching Crevis to imaginary investigations on the condo grounds when Ray isn’t making fun of him.

When Ray and Crevis inadvertently discover one of their condo residents dead on his bedroom floor with a fully clothed exotic dancer also deceased on his bed, there are things which don’t add up in so many ways, but mostly the only reason he agrees to get involved is because of the persistence of the dead man’s sister who claims her brother, who was involved in a community outreach ministry for the homeless and addicted, would never kill himself or anyone else and was certainly not carrying on with a stripper. A certain cop with whom Ray has always had an ongoing feud wrapped up the case in no time flat calling it a murder-suicide.

After certain further damages happen to Ray as he’s poking around for information, he is forced to use Crevis for help, and the prickly Ray quickly learns the kid is more equipped than he imagined and quite teachable. The unusual liaison proves to be quite meaningful and beneficial to both of them.

The irreverent Ray Quinn isn’t the most likable of protagonists, but we care about him and cut him a lot of slack because the author makes his various kinds of pain palpable. We ache with him, we want justice for him, and we know way down deep he’s a good guy. Crevis grows on us just as he does Ray, and we come to respect his fortitude and dedication. The deceased’s sister Pam is admirable, courageous, and determined. We definitely want her to be right about her brother.

Mark ties it up nicely at the end, leaving us with a picture of a recovering Ray who might just be allowing a shred of hope into his previously stone cold heart. Good story, well written for its genre, and easily fools the reader with the culprit. If you enjoyed the Joe Box mysteries by John Robinson or Randy Alcorn’s Deception, you will thoroughly enjoy The Night Watchman written by the real Detective Mark Mynheir.

http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/1590529359

Father, I pray for your divine protection upon Mark as He serves you. I pray you would continue to supply the stories you have for him to tell. I pray you would bless him with great insights and give him revelation knowledge at his work and in his writing. Continue to watch over him and keep him safe from all harm. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

A summer rerun: All in good time . . .

Those of you who “know” me are aware of my two self-published novels. The first one Hope Of Glory was begun in 1993, finished in 2002, published in 2005. My second novel The Famous One was begun late in 2004, finished in 2005, and published in 2008.

My third novel Sweet Release was started in 2005 and finished in 2005. My fourth novel Wounds . . . and Healings was started in 2005 and finished in 2005. My fifth novel Destination was written in 2006. My sixth novel The Fixer was begun in 2006 and finished in 2007. And the seventh novel Breath of Life was written in 2006. I have started the eighth novel, but it is progressing more slowly than I thought it would which is okay at this point. (And now I've started number nine.)

Recently an individual who shall remain nameless picked up Hope Of Glory after setting it aside some time ago. This person had read somewhere around 200 pages of the 744 page monster when he put it away for a considerable period of time. When he elected to start over with the book, he reread those pages and finished the book. He called to tell me that upon picking up the novel again and reading it through, he experienced a long desired healing. Called it a miracle. Said there was significant weeping involved, but he continued through to the end of the story and, although he didn’t explain the type or circumstances of the healing, let me know without a doubt, he was “healed”.

I’ve been getting some wonderfully positive feedback from those who’ve read The Famous One. And, if you have a copy of the novel and are not feeling positive about it, I’m sorry. Believe it or not, some readers have been truly moved by the story.

All in good time . . . the Lord ministers to and through us if we are willing to receive and pour forth from His supply and bounty. He gives us all we need to do what He assigns to us. If we can control our selfish desires and curb our lusts for fame and fortune, He will accomplish great things in us and through us because of who He is. And although our definitions of “great” and “successful” often clash with His, if we can sustain a willing heart to adhere to His desires for us, we will experience a profound sensation of value to His kingdom.

“He has made all things beautiful in His time . . .” Ecclesiastes 3:11

Living in what we consider “real time” it becomes so difficult to understand the significance of time beyond us. The “I want it now” culture has always existed. It isn’t new to this generation or even to this society. We can’t help ourselves with our greed or yearnings unless we want to make an effort to sacrifice the constant demands of the flesh, spiritually crucifying them. Rising above our wants restricts our self-centered ways and steers us away from conforming to the empty philosophies of a world that is self-serving and as a result self-destructing.

It kind of amazes me when we forget that our successes are a result of the benevolence of a loving God with a purpose so much more divine than we have in mind, so much farther reaching than we can imagine, and so much more worthwhile and multi-dimensional than we can figure it to be. And that the first priority of those successes is spiritual.

Writers, serving the Lord is your highest order and your greatest honor. When the priorities become confused and you find yourself serving man—hence serving yourself—ultimately your writing will be wasted. Christians know that only those things done in obedience to God remain untarnished and eternal. The rest of our “stuff” is so much chaff, burned in a wasted bonfire at the Judgment Seat of Christ. What if that “stuff” outweighs our collection of the “Done in Obedience” stack? The shame of it will be unbearable.

The “glory” of the arts is not in the objects themselves but in the direction taken by the heart immersed in obedience to the God who gives the inspiration for creation. We simply cannot create without Him.

The time to write is when He gives you the story. The time to continue through the hard places is when you determine to follow Him through the deep waters. The time to complete what He has given you to do is when you hear His instruction urging you forward. The time to stop is when He tells you to stop and not before. Listen carefully. Write on. Timing is everything.

Father, you are the Master. We are your servants and yet you call us friends, joint heirs with Jesus. Help us to be willing to serve, loving, and obedient. We’re desperate for you, and we need you to push us, prod us, nudge us, and never give up on us. We know we can count on you. If only you can count on us . . . I continue to ask: please, help me to be the one you want me to be. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.